Mxm oneshots
by amzzz123
Summary: Old oneshots i wrote about two years ago. Sorry if they're bad. Vague mattxmello mostly, if you squint.   Probably wont add any more as i've gone off Death Note a little
1. Chapter 1

Matt stared at the alarm clock, willing time to go faster. Of course, it didn't. It may have even gone slower, just to taunt him into feeling like this.

He'd done nothing but stare for the past hour and… twenty-six minutes. It was the only thing he could do that didn't have an immediate mental link to…. _him._ Which was a reason to remember him, in a funny sort of way. But at least staring at a little clock and counting down the seconds, minutes, hours, meant he'd not quite get a mental image of his best friend every few seconds. Now it was more like minutes. He'd count for a random amount of time, and then suddenly a flash of blonde, black and sharp blue would cloud his mind, along with the painful stab that came with it, and his mind would completely blank, and he'd be forced to start counting again.

In the space of two days he'd tried anything to see if it would work. The first day when he heard about his best friend's leaving; he'd cried a little, not just for the blonde, but for L as well.

Then he had slept.

He never really slept much, but now he couldn't stand being awake. The second day he'd been edgy. It was…. unnatural not to have the older boy pulling and guiding him around the house, ordering him to do a random job, most likely involving chocolate. He tried anything to make the feeling of being lost go away. Sweets reminded him of the chocolate constantly being munched. Looking around the once shared room wasn't helping; anything there was a link. Video games failed miserably, they simply reminded him of a few nights ago, one of the rare occasions he'd convinced his friend to play with him.

Screw any of that, he wasn't doing anything today. He'd…. he'd just…. sit. That was fine with him. He really didn't need anyone to show him what to do, to help him out if he was being beat up, to make him feel like he mattered, that he was important, cared for, _needed_….

"_Argh!_" he cried out, doubting anyone would be awake to hear his cry. He tore himself of the bed, spinning round, flying his fist into the nearest wall, not thinking anything. He was almost numb with rage now. Suddenly he snapped his eyes down to his now bloody knuckles, anger disappearing into shock of actually feeling something. It didn't take long for his rage to return, not caring because it was so much better than the nothingness that he'd been filled with for the past two days.

He began attacking his bedroom wall, blindly punching into the once-cream-now-red paper. He eventually realised his arms were tingling from the effort of punching, and collapsed onto the floor. He was panting, and stared straight at the ceiling.

He'd looked around desperately, not allowing the tears that flooded his eyes to escape. He squeezed them shut, balling his hands into fists, and gasping in pain. Looking down at his hands, he saw they were bloody and bruised.

"Shit… why did I do that?" he muttered. He knew exactly why.

He did need someone, he needed someone to show him what to do, help him, make him feel wanted. And not just anyone. He needed…. Mello.

With that thought he curled up into a tight ball on the floor. He was in pain, not just over his hands. Through his stomach, up to his chest, it travelled, stabbing in irregular pin-points. It was the worst he'd ever felt; yet he wouldn't dream of ever giving it up. He needed to feel like this, to remember how it had been. To remember every time the pair of them had laughed together, cried on each other's shoulders, blushed at an awkward hug.

Matt rolled over groaning, he rubbed his hand over his face, surprised to find water from his eyes decorating his hand. He sighed and rubbed the tears away. What hurt the most was the fact that Mello hadn't even bothered to say goodbye. He's thought he was the blonde's friend, maybe even his only friend, but now he wasn't so sure.

He wasn't sure how long he sat curled up on the floor, blanking everything out. But, a little while later he heard the cries and shouts of the other children, a little quieter than usual due to the news of the two deaths. He sighed and stood up, facing the mirror.

God, he was a wreck. Red eyes, messy hair, dirty face. He sighed and headed to his wardrobe to pick up his jeans, too numb to really care. He shifted through his short supply of clothes, looking for his black and white top. It wasn't there. He wandered round his bedroom, checking anywhere he could think of, until he got back to the wardrobe. He looked through again, just to see if it was really gone. He couldn't remember putting it into the wash.

He looked again. Not there, but this time he noticed that one of Mello's black tops was still hung up. That was odd; he'd assumed that Mello had taken all of his clothes when he left, as there wasn't any of his other things left.

Matt picked up the small top and hugged it. As he did he noticed a little slip of paper fall out. He picked it up.

_Matt,_

_Sorry I didn't say I was leaving, didn't want to spend ages saying goodbye. I'll miss you._

_-M_

_(PS, I took your t-shirt)_

Matt looked at the paper again. He read it three times before he really understood it. He stood still and….

Laughed.

It was cold, senseless, and he let it take over him. He wasn't sure what he was laughing at, but it felt good to fill the empty numbness inside of hem, so he didn't bother stopping.

On the other side of the world Mello sat in a plane flying over an ocean. He tugged lightly on the stripy top he was wearing and pushed his head against the cool glass of the window. He shut his eyes, and started chuckling. He didn't know why, and he didn't care.


	2. Chapter 2

Near sighed, and looked around the room he used to share with two older boys. He was back at whammy's house, in his old room. He looked at the three single beds. Two by the window, and one – his own- in the corner by the wall. He could remember that, even before they were together, Matt used to crawl over into Mello's bed. His own was rarely used until Mello left. _Matt probably wouldn't have wanted to sleep in Mello's bed on his own, _Near thought._ Or maybe he did, to feel close to him. I don't know, I've never been in a situation like that._

Near was…. a little jealous. It seemed everyone knew how to cope with loss except for him. Though that was a terrible thing to be jealous of, he still barely felt anything for it. Where Mello's feelings had enhanced his abilities in most cases, Near's own feelings were dulled by his intelligence. It was one of the things that put together made them L, but separate they could barely make half way.

Both Matt and Mello had lost their parents at a young age, but Near never knew who his were. Matt had lost Mello when he had left, and Mello had lost Matt just before dying. Both had lost L. Heck, even Light had lost his father, as had the task force. Near's "record" was clean (excusing L), and now it seemed a little ironic he was having all of their deaths thrown at his face.

The price to win was to be the last in the game. Maybe if Mello had known that they could have worked together, and neither he nor Matt would have died. Maybe Near should have explained that to him.

Near wished that Mello could have ended it. That he, Near, would have died from the Death Note, only to be followed by Matt and Mello rushing in and proving Light was Kira with his death. Then Mello would have finally won the way he wanted, and Matt, well….

What _did_ he get from helping Mello?

The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Matt had no real reason to be there, but he was. And he it was like he was meant to be.

That was the moment Near understood it. Near and Mello couldn't work alone to become the next L, but even if they worked together, they still couldn't have done it. They would have argued too much, and failed. But with Matt around, calming Mello down and telling him when to ignore Near, they probably could have done it.

Near was white, Mello was black; Matt was the stripes in between.

Near sighed and turned to go. As he went he could have sworn that he saw a flash of colour; black, blue with blonde, and green, red with stripes.

But there's no way that that could have happened.


	3. Chapter 3

Mello ran.

He didn't care where he went, but he was going there. He stopped thinking, stopped feeling, all that mattered was running.

The wind on his face was almost burning. His hair being pulled back, his heart pounding against his ribs, the sound of feet pounding against the hard cracked earth. And tears. He never cried, but the wind was pushing against his eyes, forcing the liquid out and down his face.

He nearly closed his eyes, but opened them quickly again as human restrictions forced him to have his eyes open or risk loosing his balance.

When he found himself on a patch of grass in front of a church, he stopped. He sat down on the grass, threading his fingers through it and collecting the dew that now sat on his fingers, and contemplated the idea of being sat on top of the dead. He read a gravestone to his right. _Maurine Gibson. _If his maths was right, she died about age 22.

He wondered if she had known she would die. Did she even see it coming? Was she given a chance? Was she ok with dying? Was it her fault she died? What did she do in her life? Who were her family? Did anyone still know she had existed? Did anyone come here, and stand over her grave?

He closed his eyes, and pictured the funeral around himself. A priest standing over a square shaped hole in the ground, a crying parent, a few spectators, a screaming baby…

His eyes snapped open, as he tried not to relive past memories….

He stands next to a woman in black, clinging to her dress. The baby in her arms is screaming as the box is lowered down. He squeezes his eyes shut as hard as he can. He feels his mother stiffen; she can't even comfort Miheal's sister. An older woman comes over and takes the baby from the shaking woman. She prises Miheal's hands of his mothers dress, and takes them into her own. They walk away, leaving the woman to mourn in private.

Miheal sniffs. They stop a little way of, and he turns to cling to his grandmother's dress.

"_There, there," she sighs, ruffling his hair. "It'll get better soon enough."_

_It didn't get better. It got far, far worse._

_Miheal's mother remarried. She changed into a different woman, as if she wanted to forget everything she had been. The man she married was ok at first. Then, not so long after the wedding, Miheal was hungry and went to pick up some chocolate. Which was apparently his stepfather's. A black eye, a split lip and a cut arm later Miheal forgot how to cry._

"_Miheal," the voice keeps calling. "Miheal, wake up Miheal."_

_The grey blur became clearer, as his mothers face came into view. He turned away._

"_Come on Miheal! We have to go," she keeps saying._

"_I don' wanna to go anywhere with you."_

"_You'd rather stay with the man that beats you than your own mother and sister?"_

"_Huh?"_

"_Come on, pack something, we're leaving," his mother sounds excited, and he quickly packs some of his things. They run out of the house and into the car. His step dad is still sleeping._

"_Why are we leaving?" Miheal's sister pipes up. She looks tired and Miheal puts his arm round her. For the first time in about a year, he feels hopeful._

_His mum shakes her head. "Lets not think of that," she says "lets just… start a new life, and never think of that one again."_

_Miheal's sister nods and closes her eyes. Miheal smiles at her, she looks so sweet when she's asleep._

"_Where are we gonna live?" always thinking ahead, Miheal asks the sensible question. His mum sighs._

"_I don't know Miheal, I don't know. If my mum was still alive, I suppose we could've gone to her, but I wouldn't want to put her in danger. I suppose we'll have to stay in a hotel for a while, then… I don't know,"_

_Miheal nodded. Maybe now they were leaving, he could go to a new school? No, scratch that, he'd _have_ to go to a new school. This was to good, no more step dad, no more school where kids pick on you for your intelligence, he had his mum back.… if only there was his…_

_No._

_That wouldn't ever happen, and he knew it. No point imagining. _

_He leans against his sister, and closes his eyes. He was happy._

_Well, at least he got his new life._

His eyes snapped open. He tried hard, but he couldn't stop the next bit from playing behind his eyes. The sudden stop, the sound of glass and metal, the sound of snapping bones, the feeling of his sister slumping in his arms… and the screams, the horrible screams.

He still has nightmares about it. He was trapped in a car with his dead mother and sister for half an hour before someone noticed. He was only seven at the time. That was the day he lost his ability to hope and love.

After being passed around to several orphanages, someone recognised his intelligence, and sent him to become a successor to the great, mysterious detective L.

He'd been at Whammy's for three months. He'd made his status very clear. Don't talk to him, and you wouldn't have your insides ripped out.

His biggest goal was to beat Near. He already hated the brat for beating him in every test they'd had so far.

Mello (that was the name they'd given him) looked up to the church. In his whole life, he'd never really thought anything about religion. Well, now was a good a time as ever to try…

He prayed for the first time in his life. He asked for a friend, something good to happen. He felt a little odd after a while, and got up. That was when he noticed a boy stood next to the grave. He shrugged and walked past.

"Hi," the boy called, "are you from round here?"

"Yeah."

"Do you know where…" he looked at a piece of paper in his pocket. "'Whammy's house' is?"

Mello shrugged. "Well I should do, I live there. You new?" The boy nodded.

"What you doing here?"

"My aunt," the boy pointed to "Maurine Gibson"'s grave. _Well that's ironic…_ thought Mello. At least most of his earlier questions were answered. "I remembered it was around here, so I thought I'd come to see her," The boy grinned and followed Mello. "What about you? Are we allowed out?"

"No, I just felt like going somewhere." The boy just nodded at what Mello had said.

Mello sighed. He supposed he should try and be nice to the boy. Moving to a new home was never fun, especially as moving to an orphanage mostly meant you were an orphan. But he'd only be nice for today. After that, the kid had to fend for himself.

"So, what's your name?" it seemed like a good enough place to start.

"…. Mail. Jeevas," he rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I know."

"What?"

"It's a weird name, right? I don't know what my parents were thinking," he winced at the thought of his parents, and fell silent. _Poor kid, must've happened recently then,_ Mello thought to himself.

"Oh yeah. Mine's…." (He wondered vaguely whether he should tell the new boy, when even Roger didn't know) "Miheal, so I don't really notice weird names. Anyway, when you get there they'll give you a new name. Mine's Mello, so just call me that from now on."

Mail grinned at him, it seemed to be a permanent feature, and started a conversation about Mario.

By the time they got to Whammy's Mello found out that Mail was actually quite a cool person. He liked video games, was a year younger than Mello, and loved hacking into other people's computers or games. Mail also sympathised with Mello's hatred of Near, which instantly stuck him in the good books. He couldn't stand going outside as he was fairly lazy, his bright red hair was a natural colour, and he liked wearing stripes. He briefly mentioned that his parents died in a house fire, to which Mello quickly said about his dad dieing, his mother remarrying, and then about the car crash. They were both silent for a while after that, before Mail asked what Mello liked doing.

"Uh, well, I just go on the computer or read most of the time. Eating chocolate is mainly what I do. One of the great things about Whammy's is they don't care how many sweets you eat, coz L is practically famous for the amount he eats."

They were almost at the gates, and continued talking on and off about nothing in particular until there. Once there Mello looked through. No one seemed to know he had left, which was good. Sad, but good. He supposed he'd have to at least be absent for the day before anyone really noticed.

"Wait here a minute," he said to Mail, before climbing quickly up the wall next to the gates. He noticed with little interest that his jeans had torn at the knee on his way out. After jumping down he turned back to Mail, who was watching him with a slightly quizzical look on his face.

"Remember I told you we aren't really supposed to go out?" Mail nodded, and his face cleared a little.

"Ok, what should I do?" he asked.

"Just push that button, say who you are, and they should let you in."

Mail proceeded to do so, and was quickly allowed in. Mello offered to walk him to Roger's office.

"If anyone asks me I'm gonna say I saw you out here, and came over to talk to you, so stick to that. It might not work, but I doubt anyone will ask."

"Why?" Mello held the door open for Mail, vaguely wondering why he did so, who thanked him and asked the question.

"Coz I don't think anyone noticed I left."

Mail shook his head. "No, I mean; why wouldn't it work?"

Mello looked down. "I don't really get along with…. People."

Matt nodded and didn't say anything else. Mostly because they were at the office by then, but also because he was thinking about what Mello had just said. He didn't have many friends? Was Mail an odd one out from the others, or was it just because they met under strange conditions?

Meanwhile Mello was thinking about the other. He wasn't too bad to have around. Maybe they could carry on being friends? He'd see.

Around 20 minutes later Mail came out again, a bored expression on his face. For the first time Mello noticed that Mail wore goggles. He scanned back in his mind to earlier, and remembered the younger boy had positioned them at the top of his head. He wondered why he wore them, before noticing he'd been spoken to.

"…. So is it ok for you to take Matt to his new room, seeing as you're friends?"

"…. Matt?" Mello frowned at Roger, who had followed the redhead outside.

"That's my name now," Matt explained. Mello mentally slapped his face for not working that out.

"Right, yeah, that's fine," he said. Matt started grinning again, and then followed Mello, who had decided to show Matt around.

"Um, sorry I said we were friends, it's just he saw you and asked if I was ok-"

"Yeah, I have a tendency to hate the new kid."

"Mm-hmm, he mentioned that. So I said that we were friends. He seemed pretty shocked about it, but then he seemed happy. Um, sorry," he repeated. Mello shrugged.

"That's ok, you seem alright."

"So we're friends?"

"Sure. Just don't annoy me."


	4. Chapter 4

Mello lifted the chocolate bar, and placed the sweet against his lips. The heat from his mouth melted the chocolate a little, and he could almost taste the bar from the smell. But he couldn't eat. He just set it down again, alone on the table.

Matt was watching him, goggles protecting his eyes. He wore a blank expression, but Mello couldn't look at him.

"I don't want…. To die…." Mello spoke very quietly, gaze seeing through the lonely chocolate resting on the table. He hoped his soft tone would mean that Matt didn't hear his confession. Of course, things never work like that, and Matt smiled slightly, getting up to cross the room.

"Then don't," he stated, simply. He sunk to the floor, next to Mello, and rested his head against Mello's leg.

Mello growled, somewhat. "Do you have a better plan? That'll work?" he winced. Tonight of all nights, he did _not_ want to discuss the god-damned plan.

With 23 minutes of life left, he winces, sighs, and mutters the apology. He knows Matt can't hear him. He really wanted Matt to survive, to move on and stay alive, but know he's gone Mello can't stop the numb feeling from lifting off his chest.

He examines the body of the horribly recognisable corpse through the fuzzy screen of the TV, and scoffs at all of the bullets. He thinks how appropriate this death is, Matt's lying there like some body from a game of his.

Mello's angry. He's pissed at the people who killed Matt, and he hopes they rot in hell. He's mad at himself, for letting the younger boy die. He's also upset, and the reasons are obvious.

But…. Oddly enough, the misery he's been living in is lifting a little. Matt's death is an unbearable thing, yet….

There's hope now. He'll have someone to meet on "the other side". So even now, when it hurts to breath and his heart begins to kill the rest of his body, he can smile.

Because Matt would follow him to hell and back.


End file.
